


A love that even time will lie down and be still for

by alluringwaters



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Brotherhood, Crossover, Curses, Death, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Issues, First Kiss, First Time, Healing herbs, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Magic AU, Major Character Injury, Making Out, Mentions of Witchcraft, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Needles, Other, Polyamorous Character, Practical Magic AU, Sharped weapons, Witchcraft AU, Witches and Wizards, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7064368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alluringwaters/pseuds/alluringwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Jehan are siblings in a witch family, in which there is a terrible curse on anyone who dares to fall in love with one of them.  Feeling an inevitable fear of dying the same way as their mother, Grantaire, the oldest sibling, evokes a true love spell, creating a non-existent partner of his dreams, for if they did not exist, the boy would never die of a broken heart.</p><p>(or the Practical Magic AU no one asked for.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The true love spell.

**Author's Note:**

> This is officially my first longfic and I'm thrilled with this Alternative Universe. I really like the film Practical Magic and the story is very grounded and inspired by it.  
> Hope you like it.
> 
> I dedicate this to greypentachoron (Nina). <3  
> And special thanks to edema--ruh, godlingcaptainchristina and Padfoot.

**Chapter 1 – The true love spell**

 

When Grantaire and his sibling came to live with their uncles, the ten-year-old boy did not understand fully about his condition. The curly-haired boy's family was magical. Wizards and witches, some of few that still existed in the world.

"For over two thousand years, people of our family were blamed for everything that has ever gone wrong in this town." said Javert, as he sipped his afternoon hibiscus tea.

"That's why everyone here hates us, uncle Javert?" asked his nephew, as he cut a piece of pie.

"They do not hate us, my boy. It is because our existence leaves them apprehensive and nervous." now it was the turn of the older wizard to respond to the child's doubts, smiling peacefully as usual when he was in the presence of his beloved nephews.

Grantaire smiled at his uncle and realized by Javert’s gaze that the two old ones would contest each other again to see who were the best to teach the little ones. Jehan, the youngest, was listening quietly, while he was entertained with a wreath of flowers and herbs he was making on his lap, his piece of cake on the plate, untouched.

"Oh, come on, Valjean, our family has always had a great talent for trouble." snapped Javert. "And it all started with our ancestor Fantine, children. She was a witch, the first in our family. And you two are the youngest of a long and distinguished lineage. "

"That's why they wanted to hang her? Because she was a witch? " asked Jehan.

"Well, what they say is that our aunt Fantine left a few broken hearts. The fact that her alleged lovers' wives were in the hanging committee also didn't help much if you ask me. " explained Javert, sighing. Many lies had been spread about Fantine and her past. He was fulfilled in his duty as the guardian of the children to teach them the family's history, but he did not like the popular version of the story of their First One.

"But I don't think it was any of these reasons, no. They feared her, children, because she had a gift, one that was passed to you. She had the gift... Of _magic_. And it was this very gift that saved her life on that day. Fantine floated into the air at the exact moment she would be hanged and the rope that bound her neck snapped like a thin sheet of ripping paper. Everyone ran away, of course."

Grantaire laughed, imagining the scene. Fantine sounded fantastic. He wanted to be just like her.

"And she was banished to this very island, where we live." continued Valjean. "With her first baby growing in her belly. She waited for her lover, a man named Tholomyés come rescue her. But he never showed up. Nobody came."

Jehan’s face wilted at this. How could that man be able to leave Fantine and her baby on their own?

"They say that in a moment of desperation, she cast a spell on herself. That she would never feel again the agony of love. As time was passing, the spell turned into a curse. A curse on anyone who dares to fall in love with someone of our family. " finished the wizard, demonstrating empathy for Fantine figure, the ancestor he so admired.

"So that's why daddy died?" Grantaire asked hesitantly. "Because of a curse?"

"Yes, Aire. Your mother knew ... She heard the beetle ticking for your father's death all day long. She knew that when you hear the sound of the deathwatch beetle, the person you love is doomed to die. But losing him made her suffer too much and she couldn't resist the pain. Well... Don’t worry now, boys. You know what’s the only real curse in this family? It’s sitting on the corner of the table: your uncle Javert."

"Tch, let’s face it, brother mine. You know very well that anyone who falls in love with one of us is bound to end six feet under."

"Honey, that's not true." said Valjean to scold him for his grief.

"What about my poor wife?" cried Javert.

"It was an accident."

"No, no, it was fate!"

"Accident!"

"Fate!"

"Argh, you think what you want!" Valjean gave up. His brother was really stubborn when he wanted to be.

“You’re blind, Valjean...” murmured Javert in dismay.

"And so you came to live with us! You tucked you into our lives then!" Valjean said to break the tension and sadness that had settled in the backyard. "To bring us the joy we can raise you in the best way we can."

"Humph, we let them eat chocolate for breakfast and they always forget to brush their teeth to sleep." Javert replied, causing more laughter from the children. He was the most systematic among them, perhaps because he was the oldest brother. He had been married with a woman for many years, but his wife had the same fate as his niece, mother of the children.

"But with the sweet comes the salt. So when you feel the center of attention, it's not that they hate you. It's because, well, we're different. "

Grantaire knew it. A few days ago, while trying to teach his brother to play football in the yard, Jehan ended up running into a group of children in the neighboring house surrounded. Jehan smiled excited, inviting them to play, but the neighbors threw stones on the small wizard, taunting in chorus, making the ginger boy fell on the ground. Valjean saw the concern in Grantaire's face, gently touching his shoulder.

"Hey, my little wizard. Let's go inside and do some spells. " he said, trying to cheer him up.

"But what about my homework?" asked Grantaire.

"Oh, nonsense!" Javert had now rolled his eyes. "You'll both learn things in this house that you’ll never learn in school. Come on. "

"Let's go, Jehan!" the older brother got excited. Still he missed his mother and, of course, his father. But having loving and powerful uncles and a little brother to care of, it gave him faith that better days would come. One day he would become a great wizard, he thought.

✴ ✵ ✶

Sitting at the table, after taking their baths and wearing pajamas, the two brothers were practicing simple spells as they ate chocolate cake as dessert. Grantaire was successful, managing to blow toward an unlit candle and light it up.

"Well done, Aire! You have been blessed with a gift! " celebrated Valjean.

"Aw, but what about me?" asked Jehan, upset because he couldn't do the same thing.

"Do not worry, Jehan, dear, your talent will come in time."

Suddenly they heard someone banging on the window and through it they saw a woman, looking eager to get in there. She had come to ask the wizards for a spell. Javert and Valjean had a hobby of helping some people with magic to cure illnesses or to bring the loved one. The latter (even though some were skeptical about it) was the most sought by the townspeople.

"Take the bird, Javert." Valjean said, signaling to the children that they should go upstairs. He did not like the nephews watching certain types of magic.

"Okay, get a book and open the door for the lady."

The woman entered and already went to the room where the family ate dinner before, looking distressed. She talked about the man she loved, a man which she wasn't able to forget, but the same was married. She pleaded that the wizards would help her conquer him; she wanted him to leave his wife.

 "Maybe you'll find someone else, my dear." advised Valjean, while organizing the materials for that spell.

"I don’t want anyone else! He’s all I can think about. W-Why the hell do you think I’d come here?" the woman cried, nervous and frustrated.

"Just take the money, ‘Jean. "Said Javert to his brother as he brought the bird close to the woman. Valjean gave her a long, thin needle and the woman looked at the bird's eyes to whisper the spell.

"I want him to want me so much that can’t stand living without me." she said, piercing the bird’s chest to complete the spell.

"Be careful what you wish for." warned Valjean as he got back the bloody needle from her hand. The woman looked relieved and hopeful, pulling from her pocket a photo of her lover and kissing it.

From the top of the stairs, Grantaire and Jehan spied what happened. The older hid his face, terrified by the scene that had seemed grotesque, while the small ginger one stared at everything with fascination, stroking the black curls of his frightened brother.

"I hope I never fall in love, Jehan."

"I can’t wait to fall in love, Aire."

✴ ✵ ✶

Jehan could not sleep. It was cold outside and the noise of trees swaying against the wind used to calm him down all the time. But since his mother's death he always woke up restless at night. He looked to the other side, where was Grantaire’s bed and didn’t find his brother there. He stood up wearing his orange slippers and went down looking for his brother, finding him in the greenhouse, with a small wicker basket in his hand and muttering to himself while picking flower petals.

_"They’ll hear my call a mile away... They’ll whistle my favorite song... They’ll be charming and brave... They'll know target practice..."_

"What are you doing?" asked Jehan approaching, holding his kitten, Orion.

"I'm calling a true love spell called _Amas Veritas_." said Grantaire snickering and taking over a small flower to add to the little basket, continuing. _"They’ll know how to flip pancakes in the air... They’ll be wonderfully kind... And their favorite color will be... Red..."_ he smiled again, sighing. _"And they’ll have one green eye and one blue_." then he collected the last petals, satisfied.

"I thought you never wanted to fall in love, Aire." questioned the youngest.

"That' the point, Jehan. The person of my dreams doesn’t exist. And if they don’t exist, I'll never die of broken heart." he said as he carried the basket outside, leaving the magic and the night breeze carry away the petals to the sky above. In his mind, his final words echoed.

_And if they don’t exist, I'll never die of broken heart..._

✴ ✵ ✶

The years had passed.

Grantaire and his brother were now teenagers. The oldest discovered he was gifted for the arts and practiced boxing training at school. He liked knowing that he had some non magical talents as well. It made him feel included in society. His brother Jehan had an incredible appreciation and talent to take care of the plants and flowers, but it was also good at writing and decoration. Not as good to dress himself, maybe, his taste was quite peculiar on that matter. However, despite the redhead had promising skills he wanted more than that.

He hated that city. He hated ordinary people and how they treated him and treated his family. But what bothered him most was when at sixteen he discovered himself as homosexual. For the family it was not a problem, Javert and Valjean would never repudiate him for that and Grantaire at that time was internally questioning about his own sexuality. The older one said that he would love Jehan forever no matter what, he was his little brother after all. 

But the townspeople seemed to redouble their prejudices against the people from their house. But even then Jehan had no attempt to hide it, quite the contrary. He dressed extravagantly and sometimes abusing the amount of different colors in his clothing and wore flowers in his long hair. He wore a necklace with a tiger's eye for good luck and a bracelet that used to belong to his mother.

His ambition to live a better life improved when he met Bahorel. A tanned and handsome strong guy who studied with him. They had recently completed high school and now what he really wanted was to get out and leave. It was what he would do. Javert tried a lot to be understanding but he did not like Bahorel, considered him a bad influence on his nephew and it just made Jehan feel more will to disobey the advice of his uncles.

In the middle of the night, he prepared his bag with his belongings and went to the balcony to be able to escape. Bahorel was in the backyard, anxiously waiting. The idea of running away was romantic and exciting and they were happy about it. What he was not expecting was to find Grantaire there, with some candles and the sketchbook in his lap, sitting in the rocking chair.

"Jehan? What the...? " he blinked confused, dropping the notebook aside and walking to his sibling who had just thrown the suitcase for Bahorel to catch. "Wow." he exclaimed as he watched his bother’s valentine, judging him to be good looking, though strange. But well, who were they to judge someone like that, right?

"Oh, Aire, you have no idea!" Jehan chuckled to himself, getting slightly flushed.

"You really love him enough to get away with him?" the elder asked, concerned about the precipitation of the youngest.

"Aire, what’s enough? I hate it here. I want to go far away, where no one ever heard of us. "

"Oh, my, but you sound as if I will never to see you again." said Grantaire, feeling his face shrivel a bit, but trying to keep a smile.

"But of course you will see me again! We'll grow old together, silly! It will be just you and me, in a huge house, like two old guys and a lot of cats, like uncle Jav and uncle Valjean. I bet we’ll even die on the same day!"

"You promise me?"

Jehan thought for a while and then had an idea, turning to call Bahorel and asking him to borrow his knife. He made a small little cut in his hand then. "My blood ..." and made his brother reach out and made a similar cut on his. "Your blood." then he joined his palm with his brother’s, lacing their fingers. "Our blood." he smiled gently.

"Our blood..." repeated Grantaire before releasing his hand and hugging him tightly.

"I love you, idiot." he whispered smiling at his brother, already missing him even before he left.

"I love you too, Aire. Tell uncles I love them too. "

And Grantaire didn't left the porch until he loses Jehan and Bahorel out of sight.

 


	2. Not necessarily a virtue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Their eyes met and the young wizard didn’t notice he was smiling stupidly at her, almost stumbling for it. "
> 
> (I am so sorry, guys, please don't hate me, it gets better, I promise!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really that that people liked it. I wasn't expecting it, really. Thank you very much.

Chapter 2 - Not necessarily a virtue.

 

Over the months, Grantaire was only increasingly feeling his brother’s absence. As he expected, the relationship between Jehan and Bahorel didn’t last long, but that didn’t stop the boy to continue his journey and have fun. He had no time to be heartbroken. At that early day, Grantaire had driven into town to take uncles to make purchases. It was fun to watch Javert greet the people, who stared at them as if they were seeing a ghost and some changed directions or moved away from the trio. At the post office, Valjean got excited through a correspondence coming from the youngest nephew:

"Ah, see, Jehan’s in London! So far away! Mm ... And not a surprise, he’s with another one right now. "

“Oh, who could've imagined!" commented one grumpy, yet worried, Javert.

Grantaire barely waited for him to finish reading, taking the letter from him to read it by himself. "That’s insane. He just kep going through all these guys.” he said, sighing, then returning the letter to Valjean.

"Hopefully, someday he'll find a guy who'll go through him." said Javert with a uunnecessary smirk.

"Yeah, I miss him." said Grantaire, the he passed through some woman with a kid and he could swear that he heard her calling him freak in a low voice. "All I want is normal life, uncle."

"My boy, when are you going to learn que being "normal" is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage, if you ask me. "

Once they passed a tree, several leaves fell on the boy's head at the same time. It was annoying to leave home and end up drawing attention even if he did not.

"Well, screw that, it's what I want."

"See that couple over there?" asked Valjean, pointing at a random guy with his wife across the street. "He's having an affair with their babysitter. And she can eat a baguette in under a minute!"

Grantaire smiled. His uncles where always trying to cheer him up, showing that the "common people" had issues of their own and their own peculiarities which made them sound even more stranger than he ever was. It was then, while the uncles were approaching the part of the market that sold vegetables, that Grantaire went through a pretty brunette girl carrying a basket of fruits.

Their eyes met and the young witch didn’t notice he was smiling stupidly at her, almost stumbling for it. He knew after a few trips to the city that her name was Éponine. Her parents grew several organic products and she helped them with enough commitment. A good girl, he was told. She was simple, gentle and beautiful. Grantaire didn’t feel the courage to talk to her more than just a "hello, how are you?" or "beautiful morning, isn’t it?".

She was too good for him, he thought. Seeing his dreamy beloved nephew so distressed because of that girl, made Valjean work extensively with his brother to interfere somehow. It would not hurt anyone, right? It would not be as durable. Grantaire deserved a chance to live a little, they thought.

One morning, while Grantaire was taking care of the family garden, uncles sat on the porch, waiting. When they heard the town clock in the distance announcing that it was already noon, the two wizards looked at each other with complicity, to note Grantaire get up almost mechanically by the clock sound bill, walking towards the city market.

"Where are you going, Aire?" asked Valjean, wanting to laugh.

"Good luck, kid." said Javert.

No one at the market understood exactly what happened. Éponine simply grinned when she saw the young man approaching and ran into Grantaire’s arms to kiss him.

❇ ✹ ✺

Jehan always received letters from his uncles and his brother and always answered it all with great affection. In his travels throughout these almost four years he wasn’t just having fun, he had known people, especially poets and students and his willingness to write about his experiences was always increasing. Jehan already had an extensive collection of texts and he thought about one day publishing them all and maybe become a famous author. He had not returned to his hometown yet. However he missed his family, and mostly Grantaire, he still didn’t feel ready to go back to that place again.

The last letter from his older brother was received in the summer, while the young man was in Spain.

_“Hey, little bro,_

_So. Today is our third anniversary and all I have to show for it are 2 beautiful little kids and a wife I just can't stop kissing. I told her when we were still dating that I am bi and she was totally cool with it. She is kind, fierce and dedicated to everything she loves. You will love ‘Ponine, dude. I wish you could see us. No more stones being thrown, no taunts cried out. Everything is just so blissfully normal. I never imagined myself as a parent, but Gav and Azelma are my everything._

_I am so proud of my family, Jehan. I have never been so happy before._

_Life is perfect. Come visit us as soon as you can, gingerbread!_

_Love you,_

_R.”_

The answer came a week after that and Grantaire read his brother’s letter with his uncles.

_“Dear Aire,_

_I'm lying in the sun, baby! I am hanging by the pool and I've got a million Spanish friends!_

_You might say that life is perfect. Nevertheless, I don't care 'bout any of it. In fact, I only have only one word to say to you: Montparnasse._

_Oh, boy, you'll love him. The hottest man on Earth, I don't know for sure, but I think I might be in love. I’ll see you soon, I promise._

_Can't wait to meet the children. I am now uncle Jehan! I’ll be so awesome, you’ll see!_

_I’ll teach them divination and how to prank uncle Javert and make him believe he’s getting bald!_

_Lots of love,_

_Jehan.”_

❇ ✹ ✺

Grantaire used to have heavy sleep, which was the laughingstock of his wife and youngest son, Gavroche. The little one had a nightmare, so Éponine brought him to sleep between them in their bed. The boy snuggled in her arms and went back to sleep. Grantaire had not yet returned to fall asleep when he heard the sound of a beetle echoing through the room.

At first, he thought it was just his imagination, but the sound seemed to increase more and more and even when he turned around to put the pillow over his head, he couldn’t stop listening. It was an infernal noise. Early in the morning, Éponine had to go get a new fruit shipment that were coming on the market, taking her cart with her. She was smiling, greeting their neighbors and acquaintances.

Meanwhile, at home, Grantaire was crouched on the floor banging his palm on the floor angrily.

"I can hear you, fucker! Do not-"

The beetle seemed to know what was going on. The insect continued to hide in the cracks of the wood as the desperate young man sought it.

"I know you’re there. Don’t do this to me... " he murmured nervously, trying to find the bug as soon as possible to kill it. At the same time in the market, two people shouted "Look out, 'Ponine!" before a bunch of cyclists cross the street with speed. She remained standing with her cart while they passed, relieved for haven’t been injured.

Grantaire could feel that she was safe but his relief lasted only a few seconds because the insect had stopped ticking. When the noise returned to echo around the room at the same moment a truck full hit his wife, destroying her cart and spreading the crushed fruits on the street. He felt his heart skip a beat and his eyes widened. It could not be true, no chance. Not with her. Not with his Éponine. With eyes full of tears and trying to contain a cry of despair, the young man knew then that the curse was real.

❇ ✹ ✺

It was early in the morning, a few days after the terrible accident that Grantaire entered his uncle’s home, opening the door violently with a spell, knocking over a vase of flowers as he walked rushed into the room. I was slightly drunk, sweating cold and horrible dark circles and tears in his eyes.

"It was the curse, wasn’t it? She died because I loved her so much! "

"My poor little boy ..." it was Javert's voice, getting close to him. His expressions showed guilty and sadness. "We had no idea this would happen when we cast the spell."

Grantaire looked at him confused.

"What spell? What are you talking about? Oh, you didn’t... P-please tell me that my own flesh and blood...”

"It was just a little push!" he heard Uncle Valjean getting closer. "You've always been like a son to us. And you wanted so much to be happy..."

He took a deep breath, wiping some tears.

"We never expected that you'd truly love her..."

"Well, I did! I loved her and I want her back! " he shouted, starting to move on the shelf searching for a book. "You brought her into my life, now you bring her back! I have never asked you for anything! I never asked for spells, but do this! You can bring her back!"

"Oh, no, Aire, we don’t do that." said Javert, still trying to use his gentler and understanding tone.

"You can do this! I know you can. I remember. I found here..." he catched the book and opened it on the table, leafing through in search of the right page. “I remember when mommy and daddy died y-"

"Even if we did bring her back, it wouldn’t be Éponine anymore. It would be something else. Something dark and unnatural, we don't have enough knowledge or power to do such a thing, it is too advanced for us, sweetheart. We can’t."

"I don’t fucking care what she comes back, as long as she comes back! Please!" he fell to his knees, resting his shaky hands on the table, sobbing over again and feeling his stomach hurt and in a lump in his throat for a moment. "D-do this for me... P-please ..."

Nothing in their lives had made Javert and Valjean suffer so much than to see his nephew in that state. They were guilty. They did what they felt right to bring a little light into Grantaire’s life and now by their fault, the young man was doomed to grief and suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me.  
> On the next one, the action begins.


	3. Only that moon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't know. Maybe I've had my happiness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for the nice comments on Tumblr and for everyone who left kudos or bookmarks. You're awesome.

**Chapter 3 – Only that moon**

 

“This is only temporary; don't get too excited about it. There will be no chocolate for breakfast until they grow older. Homework will be done after dinner, teeth and hair brushed before bed.” said Grantaire, as he walked inside his uncle’s house with Azelma by his side and Gavroche on his lap. And my children will never do magic. Ever.”

The news didn't come by letter to Jehan. But for some reason the young witch felt that his brother needed him. He had to come back and visit Grantaire. He looked at the thin scar on his palm and smiled slightly. How was he? With a beard? Still using that old green coat that was their father’s? He decided that he needed to travel. Luckily he had some money saved and could do it that same night.

"I was thinking of you ..." said Montparnasse, suddenly, taking the wizard from his thoughts, making him laugh softly and roll his eyes before picking up a cigarette to light up.

"You're always thinking of me." with Jehan saying this, Montparnasse approached him, pulling him close by the waist, stealing a quick but passionate kiss from his lips. They were sharing a bottle of whiskey, quietly in the room. Jehan took the bottle of him, whispering that he would return soon, but when he move away from the other, Montparnasse held him softly, behind his waist.

“Honey, I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“Let’s go together.” he said maliciously, putting his hand inside the other one’s shirt.

“Parnasse, come on.” Jehan scolded lightly, making him stop.

“I’m just kidding, go on, love.”

Jehan smiled and went to the bathroom, looking at him one last time before closing the door, watching his boyfriend sigh with a silly smile. Inside the bathroom, Jehan searched for a small bottle containing belladonna extract (uncle Valjean did not know this little theft) and added a small amount to the bottle, mixing it then.

In a few hours later, the boy was ready to return to his hometown.

❇ ✹ ✺

Grantaire eventually turned depressed and drinking more than before. Nothing made him forget Éponine. He tried his best to look strong for his uncles and tried to keep himself well-disposed for his children. They were still too small to understand the complexity of what had happened. But Azelma who was a year older than his brother knew even at such a young age she was a child different from the others. She didn’t understand why her father didn’t like to talk about it. The wizard otherwise was becoming more tired, discouraged, hardly could see the point in getting out of bed. That was the kind of life for which he was born. A life of suffering, loss and loneliness? He didn’t want that. He didn’t get up to much that day, going to bed early.

In the middle of the night, he felt something touch his forehead and a warm, calm voice calling him. He opened his eyes half-asleep and found Jehan lying beside him. At any other time maybe, he would have smiled openly to see him after so long. Now his eyes had just dazzled by the many tears he struggled not to spill.

“I was so happy...” he whispered before getting embraced in a protective way by his brother.

❇ ✹ ✺

“We were going to open a botanical shop. Éponine would get the ingredients. Moreover, I would make the stuff. She really loved my mint-oatmeal shaving cream. Couldn't stop eating it. I'm sure all this is really boring to you, but she really made me happy.”

“This is not boring, Aire. I’m sorry for your loss, really.” said Jehan, while he was playing with his brother’s curls. “As I told before, I’m still with Parnasse.”

“Montparnasse… What kind of name is that?”

“I don’t know, he said he’s from Belgium or something. He has this whole dandy and punk rock thing about him. Ah, man, he's just so intense! I mean, he talks about our relationship in terms of centuries!” he laughed. “Sometimes we just stay up all night, worshipping each other. Like bats.” Jehan completed with a mischievous smile that made Grantaire frown a bit. “Thank Goddess for Valjean's belladonna or I'd never get any sleep.”

“The fuck? Why are you taking that stuff?” asked Grantaire.

“I'm not using it. I just give it to him every now and then. That's all.”

“So you're drugging your boyfriend to get a little shut-eye? Doesn't that seem strange to you?” he arched an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe. And he's strong. So much stronger than me. Perhaps he can survive the curse.”

That made Grantaire feel a little bit uncomfortable. Jehan didn’t have to bring that up just now, but he knew it wasn’t on purpose. Occasionally Jehan had to go back. He didn’t even see his uncles before he left, it would be easier this way, he thought.

✲ ✴ ✵

Two years had passed.

Now Azelma was six years old and Gavroche was five. They were cheerful and adorable and Grantaire couldn’t be more proud of them, but Grantaire was still depressed. Barely leave the house, even for shopping groceries. He left this task to uncle Valjean. His drinking problems did not ended as well. And Javert looked more and more concerned about his oldest nephew each day. The old man felt like he was failing his promise to take care of his family. One morning, Azelma went to Grantaire’s bed, trying to wake him up.

“Daddy. It's time for us to go to school.” she said. Not an answer. “Dad! It's the same time as yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that! Out of bed, sleepyhead!” she tried again, but her father didn’t answer her. “I'm worried about Gav. Do you know he puts on his mouse ears and he drives around town all liquored up. And naked! Like a crazy Mickey Mouse!” now the man laughed and heard his little girl sighing. “All right. I'll see you around.” before she could go, he embraced her tenderly, placing Azelma on his lap, fixing one of her braids.

“I’m sorry, princess. I’m just… So tired.” Of what, exactly? He didn’t know. Of working? Living? He felt so empty inside. Éponine always knew how to make him feel better.

“It’s okay, daddy. I love you this much!” she opened her arms to emphasize that.

“Love you too. Now go get your brother or you’ll going to be late, come on.”

Late at night, Jehan called him.

“Do you forgive mom?”

“Sometimes.”

“You'll never forgive yourself unless you get up and you get dressed and brush your teeth, because your breath sure reeks of alcohol and you take care of those little kids and that’s an order, Aire.”

“Woah, you never sounded so bossy, gingerbread.”

“You never sounded so boring.”

“Got me. Don’t worry. I’ll fix everything up.”

“I love you.” Jehan said and Grantaire knew he was smiling through the phone.

“Love you too, bro.”

❇ ✹ ✺

A week after that, Grantaire started to organize everything he’d need to finally open the botanical shop. He had help from two random people he met at the bar. They became friends easily. One of them, Bossuet, was dating his new recepcionist, Musichetta. The other one, Joly, was a pharmacist and he loved all Grantaire’s products. He also seemed to love Chetta’s voice and Bossuet’s company more than a friend would, so Grantaire couldn’t tell if Joly had a crush on that guy, on that girl or maybe both, who were he to judge that?

With the witch’s disposition to work again, he was also facing the challenge of the townspeople’s prejudice coming back, but this time directed to his children.

“How's your wicked daddy doing?”

“Witch! Witch! You're a witch!”

He heard from inside the door and Joly said that he should go see what was going on.

“You'd think, after 300 years, they'd make up a better ryme.” he murmured as he left the shop. Azelma was pulling of another little boy’s hair, screaming and crying that she hated him, when Grantaire came to separate them, with the boy's mother's help.

“Really, your troublemaker child started that!” the woman said.

“I hate you!” the girl cried, pointing at the boy’s freckled face.

“Put your finger down, Zel.” he warned her.

“I hope you get… Measles!”

“Azelma! She was just kidding...” he said, as he was trying to calm her down.

“No, she wasn’t, daddy.” said Gavroche. Grantaire took them both by their hands, to move them away from that people.

“What's wrong with you? We don’t cast and we don’t toy with people's lives. Do you understand? This is not a game!”

“No, you don't cast! You probably couldn't even if you tried!” and then Azelma grabbed her brother’s hand and ran away.

“But Gav, he has all this power and doesn't use it!”

“I think you really hurt dad's feelings.” said Gavroche.

❇ ✹ ✺

“Azelma thinks anyone who marries us is going to break...” the little boy told uncle Valjean, as they were eating chocolate cream together with Azelma and uncle Javert on the other side of the table.

“That's such hogwash! What about your grandparents?” answered Valjean.

“Our grandma died of broken heart, didn’t she?” asked the girl. “How could she do that? Leave daddy and uncle Jehan behind when they were just little boys?”

“Why won't he talk about it?” questioned Gavroche with his mouth full of chocolate.

“Was dad good at spells as a kid? Why won't he do spells now?”

Little did they know they were being observed all along.

“What’s going on here?” asked Grantaire, sounding a little bit serious with his arms crossed.

“Nothing.” said Javert.

“Just making, uh… Bread!” said Valjean, then the old wizard stared at the oven, to make a few round breads appear on the inside.

“Did you guys finish your homework? As storm's coming. Go check the windows for me, okay?” he asked, so the children left the dinner table and went upstairs. Then he turned to uncle Valjean in unbelief. “Making bread? I want you both to watch what you say to those kids. I don't you filling their heads with any of your nonsense, okay?”

“We'd never tell them nonsense, boy. Watch your tongue.” warned Javert.

Up his room again that night, Grantaire wrote a new letter to his brother.

_“Hey, bro,_

_Sometimes I feel there is a hole inside me, you know? An emptiness that, at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, probably you could hear the entire ocean. And I see the moon tonight, there's a circle around it... A sign of trouble not far behind._

_I have this dream of being whole. I'm not going to sleep each night, wanting this, but..._

_Yeah... Still, sometimes when the wind is warm or the crickets sing I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I wanna be seen, dude. I don't know. Maybe I've had my happiness with her. Maybe I won't have this again, it doesn't matter how much I desire._

_I don't want to believe it but there is no one for me, Jehan. Only that moon._

_But the moon sure looks pretty tonight... She looks green with a bit of blue._

_R.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments?  
> Next chapter we'll have a new character (guess who?) + more Bossuet/Chetta/Joly.  
> Kudos if you liked Valjean's magical round breads.


	4. Blood on the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan's in trouble and Grantaire's the only one who can help his brother now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in posting. My Microsoft Word has a problem and I lost fifteen pages of this story.

**Capítulo 4 – Blood on the moon**

 

Jehan’s last visit once again awakened the life force and vivacity that Grantaire needed to continue to his plans and everyday life. They were often talking on the phone and sometimes Jehan would rather send letters with small poetry excerpts to know what his brother thought of the development of his writing skills. However, one night when the phone rang and uncle Valjean went to it, knowing that was his nephew on the line, Grantaire ran and stepped forward to answer first, because he sensed danger.

“Bro? What’s wrong?” he asked first.

“I’m scared, Aire. Can you come and get me?” his voice was shaky and low, Jehan was definitely terrified of something.

“Where are you now?”

“In Cabourg, at the hotel near the airport. Please, come as soon as possible, I have to get out of here.” Grantaire prepared to leave, taking the wallet and cell phone, saying goodbye to the children and putting his coat on.

“Please, can you watch the kids for me?” he asked Javert.

“Just go to Jehan. The children'll be fine. We'll take them to the solstic celebration.”

“What? No, no, please, Jav, why can't you two just stay here?” ah, his uncles and their religious calendars, could never pass anything.

“We can't back out, silly. We're on the committee. We’re presenting.” joined Valjean, while eating a piece of his homemade bread. The young wizard rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“Fine. But I don't want them dancing naked under the full moon.” Grantaire warned.

“No, of course not, my boy. Nudity is entirely optional, as you well remember!”

✲ ✴ ✵

Finding the hotel wasn’t that hard. The hardest thing was alone find her brother's room, which crazy hotel was that to have no receptionist? Anyone could go in there. He sighed relieved to see his brother at last. Jehan was kneeling, hugging his legs, his hair in a braid almost undone and there was a bruise near the right eye.

“The room service here sucks...” Jehan chuckled sadly, reaching for the older one to help him get up.

“You’re fine, that’s what matters. Let's get you out of here, come on.” The brothers went to the parking lot after collecting the redhead’s things in a small suitcase. Now Jehan wasn’t crying, he was more angry than hurt.

“He's been really crazy, you know? He's different, Aire, something's really wrong... We've been driving for two weeks straight. I mean, not even straight, in these fucking zigzags, back and forth. Damn these shoes!” Grantaire declined to comment about those floral sneakers. “Then today he says he wants a jelly doughnut. And he says to the kid, "Jelly doughnut, with cream." and the kid looked confused, so I said, "Parnasse, jelly's not a cream." Then the kid laughed and I laughed and then his eyes turned pale and he punched me! He punched me very hard, the bastard… Oh, no... No... No...”

“What?”

“Blood on the moon.” Jehan grabbed his brother's arm and stepped back as he looked at the dark sky and the moon, which seemed to have gained a light scarlet outline around.

“I know, dude, let’s go!”

“Blood on the moon, stupid! You know what this is!”

“It’s nothing, let’s go take a cab, come on.”

“Where's my tiger's eye?” he touched his own neck, missing the necklace. “It brings me luck. I left it. I got to get my tiger's eye!”

“It's probably in the bag, Jehan, hurry up.” if dealing with the stubbornness of his uncles was already complicated, dealing with his brother was even worse for the brunet. He waited for five minutes and still Jehan had not returned from Montparnasse’s car, who was strangely missing for someone who had been with such weird behavior. The young wizard approached the car, quietly calling his brother's name, finding the same being held by the waist in the back seat and Montparnasse pointing a gun at his head.

“You drive, baby.” Montparnasse said with a smirk.

✲ ✴ ✵

“You want some whiskey, Grantaire? Nope? So, you ever read any books by Babet? Okay, Babet is a foreigner and he loved all things cowboy. Just like me, I love this stuff; I think is pretty cool and stylish. Therefore, he would write stories about rustlers. Rustlers who were really bad guys. He wrote the Patron-Minette series, it’s very famous.”

Grantaire drove and listened to that nonsense silently. He appeared calm, but he was already thinking of a plan to get themselves rid of that guy. He looked in the rearview mirror, where he could see his brother in the back seat. Jehan sent him a vision through the glass, informing him that the belladonna was in the suitcase beside him. Meanwhile, Montparnasse couldn’t keep the mouth shut.

“They would try to steal the cattle. But before they could sell them they would try to take away the brand of the owner with an acid, or by scrubbing.” Why was this idiot rubbing his own ring on the backseat? When had he lit a cigarette? “Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught and get hanged.” Grantaire just really alarmed to see that he had lit the lighter near the ring to heat the surface and was pulling Jehan’s arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” he gasped and needed to turn the side of his body to try to push him with one hand.

“Come on! You can't hide the brand. It's just you and me. Hey, watch the road, fuckface!” He managed to take some distance between Montparnasse and his quiet brother, throwing the cigarette lighter in the car seat, looking furious and hysterical.

“Shut up! Rustlers, branding and Babet, who by the way is not a foreigner! He's from Paris, you asshole!”

“Wow, calm down, will you?” Montparnasse laughed at his excitement, as if the kidnapping was a big joke to him. You're freaking me out, you jerk! Give me the bottle before I plow you into a truck just to get you to shut up!” “Easy, okay? You know, boys, I'm feeling very into siblings right now.”

Grantaire took a sip of whiskey to calm down and then held the bottle still. As the kidnapper was distracted, he managed to reach the belladonna bottle, pouring all the content in the whiskey before returning it to him. He turned on the radio and he regretted it instantly, because the idiot now was singing.

“You were always on my mind, you were always on my mind...”

✲ ✴ ✵

“He should've passed out by now. You didn't give him enough.” complained Jehan when they stopped the car so his boyfriend could urinate on the other side of the track, taking the keys with him, of course.

“I gave him plenty. Are you sure that freak is not a vampire or something? Ugh, he’s coming back.” The redhead ran his hands over his face, feeling frustrated and tired with the whole situation.

“What's he going to do?”

“Just stay calm and trust me.”

When they returned to the car, Montparnasse seemed smoother, softer as usual, approaching Jehan again with a tender smile as he sang softly same song from before.

“If I made you feel second best, I'm so sorry, I was blind. you were always on my mind...” Jehan shook his head, afflicted by the constant change in his behavior, he seemed bewitched.

“Hey, baby. Come on, what’s happening?”

Montparnasse touched the botched braid and then gently stroked the back of his neck.

“I'm sorry, my love... I wanted to be with you forever...”

“I love you too. Parnasse, please, can w…”

But the witch couldn’t continue his sentence because his boyfriend was now heavily pushing his neck to choke him, the same pale color all over his eyes. Grantaire stifled a startled cry to be able to jump to the back seat and take off that man upon his brother, hitting his head repeatedly. After some seconds of distress, he heard Jehan’s voice again.

“Aire, stop, he's out... He's passed out.” The Belgian's body was soft and quiet upon Jehan. Soft as it was only after a while when they lifted him that the redhead noticed that Montparnasse seemed dead.

“Oh, fuck…” mumbled Grantaire.

“Oh, my Goddess! How much did you give him?”

“I don't know, you know, I wasn't using a measuring cup! He tried to kill you!”

“Holy shit!” The radio was on, maybe that was why neither of them had heard the beetle singing.

✲ ✴ ✵

It was no time to panic; yet was very difficult to maintain control in such a situation. They covered his body with an old blanket and left him in the back seat. Outside, Jehan walked in circles on the roadside.

“Please, Goddess, God, Budha, whoever’s on above, if you get us out of this, I'll be good. I'll adopt babies…”

“I have babies, Jehan! I had a good life! And I worked really hard to get that!”

The younger brother’s eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t take it more. He embraced Grantaire with all his strength.

“It's all my fault, bro... I didn't mean to ruin your life, I just had no one else to turn to.”

They got into the car and Grantaire started driving, this time in the right direction.

“We have to go to the police. It was self-defense.”

“The old slowly-poison-him-to-death self-defense? Come on, man, they're never going to believe us.” Jehan sighed picking up a cigarette for himself. Still couldn't believe what was going on. His boyfriend wasn't abusive, he wasn't that sinister and violent man. That should be part of that damn curse, there was no other way to explain.

“You really should stop smoking so much.”

“Said the drunkard. Why? I'll probably get life... I should smoke two at once. It'll shorten the sentence.”

The oldest was increasingly tense, a lump forming on his throat.

“I really don't want to lose my children...”

“I know. I don't want you to either...” then Jehan glanced back where the body was, then his gaze crossed his brother’s a few times.

“What are you thinking?”

“When Éponine died, you asked the uncles to bring her back...”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t.” he said, still not realizing where the other was going with this subject.

“Wouldn't. But they could.”

“No, they were right. She'd come back as something dark and unnatural. And I don’t say this because of her gothy looks.”

“Parnasse’s already turned dark and unnatural! It's not being easy for me to deal with, but it's true! And I don't care what he comes back as, as long as he comes back with a pulse!”

“Nope, that’s not an option. That’s not a choice. We're not powerful enough to mess with this type of magic...”

His brother could only have lost his mind in that whole mess, what he was proposing was beyond their limits.

“We don't have a choice, Grantaire! This is our choice!”

✲ ✴ ✵

When they arrived home, it was midnight. Load the body inside in almost complete silence was virtually impossible. Grantaire was relieved to see that the uncles and the children had actually gone to the celebration.

“You owe me big-time, young man. Let’s put him on the table, help me.”

“Watch his balls.” said Jehan.

“No, you watch them.” smirked Grantaire. Jehan just smiled and blushed a little, helping his brother put the body on the table. "I'll get the book and I'll be back. Open or cut his shirt, we will need it for the spell." Grantaire said and went out for a moment.

“Okay, sir, I'll get you out of this but when I do, we're definitely breaking up. It's over.” then the witch huffed and softly slapped his boyfriend's face.

“Uh… What are you doing? Do you guys need a moment?” asked Grantaire holding the book and some candles.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” questioned the brunet as he put the candles on the table to light them, the open book next to him.

“Absolutely.”

✲ ✴ ✵

“So, it says to keep your lips pursed, emit wind over tongue in motion, teeth on edge. Yes, just like that.” Grantaire was reading the instructions while burning some dried rosemary pieces. "Touch bounded smudge of blue sage with braided wheat staw. Insert needles through eyes of corpse."

“Through the eye? Ew, that’s disgusting.”

“In the eye, yeah, so we can control the spirit, is part of it. Now…” he tried to open one of the corpse’s eye, but it was all blank, white and scary, in a way it was impossible even to look at it. “No, nope. No chance, no way.”

“I think we should wait for the uncles.”

“It's not like he's going to stay fresh, stupid! It's now or never! I need you to get me something white to write on top of the star. Go!”

He brought him a bottle of whipped cream.

“You serious?”

“That’s all I could find.”

“Whatever, that’ll do.” Grantaire draw a pentacle on Montparnasse’s chest, right above a black pentacle he drew before that. “The black pentacle is concealed, hidden from sight as it is enveloped by the white pentacle of resurrection...”

“Cool.” Said Jehan, approaching him again with the needles.

“Now you repeat after me: _"Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, mighty Hekate make it right”._ Got it?”

"Black as night... Erase death from our sight... White as light... Mighty Hekate make it right."

They repeated the spell together a several times, only until they noticed it was starting to thunder outside and Parnasse's eyes were now open in that pale shade of blue. Not the vivid and regular green. Jehan felt a squeeze. It did not look like he was all right.

“It worked…” whispered Grantaire.

The needled weren't pierced on Montparnasse’s eyes. Amazed at the result, both have forgotten this important part.

“Hey? Can you hear me?” asked Jehan, trying to touch his boyfriend’s shoulder. The man rose sharply attacking the redhead with hands on his neck with a fury that seemed inhuman. Grantaire panicked and reached the first heavy object that he had access, unleashing a fatal blow on his head.

✲ ✴ ✵

Even with the rain, the two dug a pit fairly deep in the garden so that they could put the body there.

“Think you may have a horrible taste in men, brother.”

“No shit, Sherlock...”

Once fulfilled this task, they were both covered with earth, water and blood, mentally and physically exhausted.

“I know I'll look stupid I tell you this now, but thank you, Grantaire.”

“Anytime, kid.”

Uncles returned the next morning. The children walked the garden, laughing and running, calling for their father. They were with flowers and herbs in their heads, looking like they had fun. Meanwhile, Jehan and Grantaire were watching them from the window.

“What if they don’t like me?” the ginger one asked concerned. “I mean, they don’t know I’m, well, gay, do they?”

“Gavroche’s too young to understand it, but Azelma knows. After a several _“Bye, dad, yes, that’s what I am, darling”_ jokes, I kinda had to explain a few things.”

“You’re the worst!” Jehan smiled.

“I’m the best.” the older smiled back.

When they entered, the children run to hug her father, speaking both at the same time on the celebration, until they realized the presence of anyone else there, Azelma's eyes glowing in recognition.

“Oh, my God, it’s uncle Jehan! Uncle Jehan!”

The redhead was attacked in a warm embrace, feeling very dear though it was the first time he saw them indeed.

“You are so grown up, I can't believe it!” while Azelma fidgeted in his hair, putting some of her flowers there, Jehan looked up staring at one of the uncles approaching surprised. “Oh… Hi, uncle Javert. I’m back.”

Javert who used to be more serious, just got closer and hugged his nephew, as if relieved to see him safe and sound. He couldn’t help but notice the bruise on his face and some red marks on his neck.

"Well ... A little mugwort will fix that. I'll get some in the greenhouse. Come on, children, help me up." Uncle Valjean came with some bags and a case, all distracted until he noticed that Jehan was there, opening a huge smile before coming closer to hug him.

“We missed you, my boy. I don’t know how you got it in your face, but whoever did it will surely pay dearly, don’t worry.”

Grantaire exchanged a worried look with his brother, biting his lip.

“Well, since you're here, how about a brownie for breakfast?” asked Valjean.

“A brownie? You still do that? I would love it!”

✲ ✴ ✵

The next morning, Grantaire took his brother to the botanical shop. Since he was back, it was good to occupy his mind with something to forget about the problems he had in his relationship. Musichetta liked him from the start because of his clothes, even offered to braid all the young man’s hair, leaving Bossuet and Joly a little jealous. Grantaire was preparing to leave when he noticed his brother experimenting some body lotion.

“Wow, bro, I loved it, that's very good. Smells like peaches!”

“If you're going to work here, maybe you could, I don't know... Work?”

“I am. I'm testing the merchandise.” he winked at his older brother, smiling mockingly, making Joly laugh quietly at his side.

“You know where you can reach me. I'll be back, if anyone cares.” then he left, closing the door with some force.

“Ouch! Did I do something wrong, guys?” asked Jehan.

“No, you didn’t, he’s grumpy ‘cause it’s Phone Tree Day.”

“What is it?”

“Parents' hotline.” explained Bossuet. “If there's an emergency, like a very rainy day, they decide who's the most responsible…”

“You mean the most popular!” mocked Joly.

“…Responsible parent to sound the alarm.” continued the bald one.

“Each parent calls the next. It's a big deal to get chosen. But Taire never gets picked, ‘cause everybody knows he's a w- Different.” said Chetta, realizing that Jehan was magical as well, of course.

“I see. Well, I’m going to this meeting, sounds fun. I was going to have lunch with Joly, but I think the three of you can spend some time together, right? Bye-bye!” and he left without giving a chance to any of them manifest. It would also be fun to get them together in a relationship of three. That city really needed break barriers and eliminate prejudices.

✲ ✴ ✵

“Quiet! Quiet, quiet!” shouted the lady standing up in front all of the parents with a notebook. “Third name from the top of the phone tree is… Mrs. Floréal.”

Everyone applauded, but fell silent when they saw a red-haired boy, with a pink cropped blouse and printed trousers into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“Can I help you, miss… Mister…?”

“I’m Jehan and I'm whatever one you want me to be. I’m here for my brother. Oh, he’s right there, excuse me.”

It was hard to walk through the room without attracting people’s attention, especially men, all commenting in whispers.

“Is that a flower tattoo?”

“Mm. And he's wearing a rainbow bracelet.”

The redhead shook his head and looked at a pair that was whispering about him.

“That’s right, I'm back. Hang onto your husbands, girls!”

Grantaire laughed and bowed his head, waiting for his brother to sit beside him.

“I feel like I’m at elementary school, naked without my homework.”

“Glad you loved my entrance.”

The woman continued.

“Second from the top of the phone tree is… Mr. Mabeuf.”

“Is this for real?” asked Jehan in dismain, glancing at two women whispering about him.

“I heard that he’s _queer_ and he screwed coach Bahorel… Ouch!”

The cry of pain occurred because the woman have felt as if someone had given her a small invisible blow with a whip.

“Don’t do that.” Grantaire scolded, trying not to laugh.

“It wasn’t me, it was you, silly!”

“Finally, I'm so pleased to report this. The top of the phone tree list is... One moment.” she did not appear too happy to turn the pages and realize that there was a new name there. Not a name, a single capital letter. “It's… It’s Mr. Grantaire.”

Jehan clapped and yelped in celebration.

"Go, Aire! Hah, now _that_ was me!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for making Montparnasse a bit of a villain. For now. I know some people don't like it. I promise to compensate you in the future, continue reading to see what happens! ♡  
> Thank you all. ♡


	5. Midnight margaritas and red roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinks, roses and a beautiful stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, just because I didn't want to keep you waiting.

**Chapter 5 – Midnight margaritas and red roses**

_“Eye of newt, toe of frog.”_

_“Wool of bat, tongue of dog.”_

_“Adder's fork and blindworm's sting.”_

_“Barbados lime is just the thing.”_

_“Cragged salt like a sailor's stubble!”_

_“Flip the switch and let the cauldron bubble!”_

_“How convivial!”_

For anyone who hear these peculiar sentences could sound like something wicked, but it was only Valjean and Javert talking nonsense while preparing some drinks to celebrate the youngest nephew's return.

Meanwhile, in the yard, strange flowers begin to sprout from the ground and a strange spread of frogs began.

✲ ✴ ✵

The day had been tiring, but it was worth it. When he returned to the shop, Grantaire realized Musichetta was playing with Joly’s hair, and Joly was too close to Bossuet. He went out for an afternoon and they progressed so much? Jehan exchanged a knowing look with him, but said nothing.

The brunet went to bed early, but only dozing instead of falling into a deep sleep, but only really awakened when he felt someone nudge his cheek. It was Jehan.

“Wakey-wakey! Midnight _margaritas_! Come on!”

They went down the stairs, getting glasses filled with ice and _margaritas_ from his uncles, connecting the stereo. The four of them laughed and drank, Valjean even daring to dance a little. When tired, they decided to sit on the table, but at no time leaving the beverages aside.

Jehan, half-drunk, asked to try to read the future in Grantaire’s palm, who despite having his own powers, was half incredulous at that particular practice.

“No, this is serious.  All right. I see a man... I see a man in your future.”

“A man? Really?”

 “Mhmm. And he is gorgeous, taller than you, curly blond hair and... Oh, he is big! Will you handle it?”

Grantaire's face became violently flushed, giving a punch on his brother's arm.

“But you're scared to death and you wind up like a frigid old hag, with your two frigid old uncles! Hahahaha! Wow, I don't know where that came from! That was weird! Let's do another one!”

“He’s never been interested in his gifts...” said Javert. “He just made that all up.”

“Don't lie, brother mine.” joined Valjean, with a grin. “Jehan has his own “magic”. And we all know what it is.”

The elders were laughing now, referring to the amount of lovers the youngest had. Jehan bowed his head, very embarrassed. He just wanted to have fun and be with people who made him happy. He had never stopped to think he would have a reputation for it. Grantaire noticing his brother’s discomfort, stepped in their way.

“Oh, please! Since when is being a slut a crime in this family?” not satisfied, the brunet pointed at the two uncles.

All four were laughing now.

“You self-centered shrew!” shouted Jehan.

“Ingrate!” replied Javert.

“Goody two-shoes!” joined Valjean.

“Witch!” screamed Grantaire.

✲ ✴ ✵

They continued drinking and chatting happily, in a moment Javert put an arm on Valjean's shoulder and the two began to sing together.

Quite as often as I should have… Could have said and done… I just never found the time… You were always... On my mind…”

Grantaire's eyes widened in recognition and Jehan was the first to see a bottle of whiskey that had not been purchased by them on the table.

“Where did this bottle come from? Where did this bottle come from, guys?”

Uncles threw their arms up, swaying as they sang more cheerfully.

“Someone left it on the porch! Someone left it on the porch!”

Jehan almost screamed of fright, grabbing the bottle and taking it to the sink, breaking it right there. With the sound of broken glass, the uncles jumped, leaving the table and staring at their nephews in confusion.

The first to ask questions was Javert.

“What's going on here? What's going on with you? What's going on in this house?”

“Something's going on. I can smell it.” said Valjean.

“Yes, brother dear, it's a very distinct smell. It's the smell of bullshit.” Javert grunted.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” lied Jehan.

They almost jump from fear at the sound of something falling to the ground.

“Broom fell. Company's coming.” warned Valjean.

“W-we had a problem and we handled it.” explained Grantaire.

“We deserve an explanation.” Javert crossed his arms, waiting for an answer, but neither nephews dared to say anything.

“Come on, Valjean. Let’s go.”

They left and Jehan was now shaking his head.

“It’s not possible, Aire. It can’t be…”

Upstairs, the older wizards pack up to leave the house for a few days.

“Leaving like this is a harsh lesson.” Valjean muttered sulkily.

“A lesson they must learn on their own.” said the other, already a bit more objective.

“What about the little ones?”

“Not to worry, a good piece of Fantine's hanging rope will protect them.”

With the pieces of the rope in hand, they went to the children’s room, waking them up gently to put it around their necks.

“You must promise us that you won't take them off. Not until we come home, okay?”

“Okay, uncle Javert.” Azelma nodded, still half asleep.

“We'll only be gone a short while.” he assured.

“Promise?” asked a sleepy Gavroche.

“I promise. Now back to sleep, child.”

✲ ✴ ✵

In the kitchen, in the morning, a fully renovated and busy Gavroche disturbed his father who was preparing breakfast, playing one of the songs heard on the radio the night before with a kazoo.  Grantaire regretted having bought it for the child.

“Make him stop. I'll pay whatever it takes.” begged a grumpy Jehan.

“Gav, can I see it for a second?” Grantaire asked the boy, only to pick up the kazoo and throw it out the window.

“Hey!”

“Thanks, son. What's that thing around your neck?”

“The uncles gave it to us. They said it'd protect us.”

“Zel, please get that mint from the garden before your bus comes. Where is the aspirin? Please do as I say, Azelma.”

“Not while he's out there.” she said, looking through the window.

“Not while who's out where?” the father frowned, approaching his daughter, confused.

“The guy under the roses.” Azelma told him.

“What? I don't see him. Are you looking at him now?”

“He's right there by the red roses, daddy. They grew overnight.”

Jehan was close, listening to their conversation and suddenly became worried.

“We don’t have red roses out there, do we?” he asked Grantaire.

“No, we don’t.”

“Oh, shit. All right, no problem, we'll get rid of it. You better call the uncles now.”

“They left.” Azelma said, turning to her uncle.

“What do you mean? When did they leave?”

“They said to give you a message: "clean up your own mess. "” said Gavroche.

“No way. Excuse me…”

Jehan left home feeling upset and walked to the rosebush, seeing that it seemed to only grow more and more, although slowly.

“You stop this, Parnasse! You stop it!” he cried.

“Are you okay, bro?” Grantaire approached cautiously.

“He's making them grow! He's trying to get to us by making them grow! You leave us alone!”

“Stop it, Jehan! Can you just… Oh, fuck, look!” he pointed to the ground. “Bloody hell, his boots, did you see that?”

“Is he rising? Or is the ground sinking? What is he doing to us? Aire, he’s coming for me, I can’t…”

“Go inside, take care of the kids.”

Jehan was very disturbed to stay outside; unfortunately, Grantaire would have to find a way to fix it all alone. He began to cut the rosebush with pruning scissors, frustrated and aggressive. He didn’t notice a man approaching him carefully.

“It's early for roses, isn't it?” the man asked curiously with those flowers so beautiful, right there.

Grantaire turned to see who it was and nearly lost the air. The stranger was blond, a curly golden hair, tall and really handsome, perhaps the most attractive person he had ever seen in his entire life.

“C-can I help you with something?” Grantaire smiled, shyly.

“I sure hope so. My name's Enjolras. Special investigator, prosecutor's office in Paris.”

“You sure are a long way from home, officer.”

“Yes, I am, sir. I was kind of hoping to talk to your brother, Jehan, if he's around. He might have some information on a case I'm working on.”

Even with that as formal manner of speaking Enjolras looked charming. Grantaire couldn’t take his eyes of him.

“A-All right, I'll get him. How did you know that I was his brother?”

“Lucky guess, I guess.” he smiled. A pure and beautiful smile.

“Why don't you come inside?”

The young witch left the investigator waiting in the living room and went upstairs to warn Jehan who was meditating with headphones, almost scaring him.

“A cop looking for Montparnasse wants to talk to you. And I think I'm having a heart attack!” he whispered nervously.

This time the redhead was more relaxed with everything and taking a deep breath and leaving the headphones off to talk to him.

“Just calm down. Calm down. What is the question? The question is: how much can he know?"

“He seems to know a lot because he's come all the way from Paris. And I know this sounds really strange but… I don't think I can lie to him.”

“Of course you can lie to him, just breathe.” Jehan played the worried face of his brother, caressing his cheek.  “Here's the story, right? Here's the story. I left him.. Because he hit me. And we haven't seen him since. It's as simple as that. You just let me handle the rest.”

“Okay, good. Left him because he hit you and haven't seen him… What?”

“Is he cute?” Jehan asked with a mischievous smile.

“Hell yeah, he’s pretty fine, Greek God sort of beauty, you know?”

What he meant is that Enjolras was way too hot. Jehan had to change clothes to go down, meanwhile Grantaire was checking where the blond was, finding him in the greenhouse.

“Just herbs, you know, from the garden. So what brings you to the island?”

“This.” Enjolras took a slightly crumpled letter from his coat pocket.

“You… You read my letter?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

The witch felt awkward and disrespected.

“It was a very personal letter.”

“Yes, sir, it was.”

Enjolras looked at him apologetically and something on that look made Grantaire feel strange. There was something about him that looked so ... Surreal. It felt good to look into his face, being so close to him.

“What?”

“I'm sorry. You…  Seem familiar.”

“Hello, there!” it was Jehan’s voice entering the greenhouse. “Good morning, mister…?”

“Enjolras. Good morning. I'm not going to beat around the bush. I need to find your boyfriend, Montparnasse.”

“I don't know where he is.” he shook his head. “I wouldn't exactly call him my boyfriend. He's more like a big mistake...” the redhead felt a bit of pain in his chest as he said it,

but he had to look very annoyed, so the blond wouldn't think he knew where the other one was.

“Is that his handiwork there?” the investigator asked, referring to the bruise on his face.

“Mhm. If a man hits me, he only does it once.” he dared to wink at the blond, who continued to stare at him as seriously as before. “Can I take a peek at your...?”

“I beg your pardon?” Enjolras blushed slightly, Grantaire at his side seemed to find it adorable. What else could make a serious man like him blush like that?

“…Hand?”

“Oh. Right. What for?”

“Chiromancy. Now…” the young wizard walked the blond's hand palm with his fingertip, looking at him with a teasing smile. “I can tell that you've never touched a lover in anger all your life.”

“May I have my hand back, please? Thank you. You're telling me you have no idea where he is?”

“I told you. He hit me and I haven't seen him since.”

“When was that?”

“Three days ago. Right, Aire? Three days.”

“Excuse me.” he turned to ask Grantaire. “Whose car is that in the driveway?” asked Enjolras. “The one with the Bruxelles plates?”

“That's my car.” answered Jehan.

“Your car? Plate number 2-4-6 O-N-E? That's Montparnasse's car. Come on now.”

“W-w-we stole it, and i-it's a crime. I know this, b-but he basically kidnapped him and…”

“He kidnapped you?” The blond turned back to Jehan, who now appeared to be tense.

“H-he didn't really kidnap him, he sort of, like… A little nap. No, there was a car and he- What happened was, that he- You should know, Jehan has the worst taste in men.” he started to ramble, gesticulating all the time like he was super nervous and Jehan rebuked him with his eyes, trying to ask in silence that he’d shut up soon. “Well, you do. So I picked him up and I drove him right back here. And we would be s-so happy to give him back his car, because it is a crime- As you say, you just don't know where he is to  give him back that car and…”

The witch stopped talking as Enjolras had taken a handkerchief to wipe a small little cut on his neck, probably done by the time he was cutting the roses. His body shuddered a little, he was so close, he was so kind ... No, focus! He could not be distracted by his beauty!

“So basically, nobody knows where Montparnasse is.” Enjolras realized.

“I'm sorry, what?” Grantaire asked, a little lost.

“You don't have any idea where he is?”

“No.”

“Would you mind if I just took a look around?”

“No.”

Once the investigator went to the garden, Jehan could finally sigh in relief, glaring at his brother.

“What is wrong with you?” Jehan mouthed.

“I don’t know!” Grantaire mouthed back, feeling very confused by Enjolras’ presence.

Once finished examining the car in search of traces, collecting samples of some suspicious substances, the blond returned to talk with the brothers.

“This young lady's name was Phoebe Stone.” Enjolras said, showing them some pictures. “Two years ago, she was found strangled. Lying on the side of the highway. Her body had been marked with a kind of brand, burned right into the face. Any help you gentleman can give me in locating this ex-friend of yours would sure be appreciated.”

The brothers looked at each other, promising internally that they wouldn’t say anything to him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to post the chapter 6 as soon as I can.


	6. True magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras discovers that Grantaire and Jehan are wizards and Jehan discovers something important about Montparnasse's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me so long to update this and I'm sorry if I kept someone's waiting. Don't forget to comment below.

**Chapter 6 – True magic**

 

_At the coffee shop:_

“Go arrest them!” screamed an old lady in a wheelchair.

 “Their nephew owns a shop where they cook up a special bread. And that's why the uncles don't age.I tell you, they just don't age! Bewitched bread, can you imagine?” her daughter explained to the investigator.

 

“Grantaire sells bread?” Enjolras asked confused.

 

“Magical bread.” she replied.

 

✲✴✵

_At their neighborhood:_

“Yeah, sir, witches! Oh! On Halloween, they all jump off the roof and fly! With broomsticks! Like Harry Potter!”, said Navet, Gavroche’s classmate with a happy smile. 

✲✴✵

 

 _At the streets:_  

“When they get mad at you, they hex you. Even the kids!” said another boy, with his face covered with chickenpox.

  
✲✴✵

 

 _At the city square:_  

“I wouldn't be surprised if he turned up in a ditch somewhere.” said a young woman. 

“Sara, you’re overreacting.” a friend rebuked her. She’s not saying that they murdered this guy, sir.” 

“Yes, I am! I don’t trust them. Evil unruly fags!”

 “Please, madam, don’t use these words.” Enjolras frowned.

 “Well, sir, maybe they shook his hand and then he died. It's very mysterious.” 

“I see. Thank you for your time.” 

✲✴✵ 

_At the public library:_

  
“If anyone dared take on someone from Fantine’s bloodline, they'd live briefly in the euphoria of their love... Until meeting an untimely death.” Combeferre, the librarian read it from an antique book.

 “So... Is is a curse?”

 “Yes, sir. A curse.”

  
✲✴✵

  
At Grantaire’s shop: “A witch? Yeah. But evil? Nah...” answered Musichetta, with a tiny and gentle smile, making both Joly and Bossuet a bit jealous. “You get some psychos now and then, animal slaughter, ritual human disembowelment, but that's really pretty rare. See, it's a pagan label. It's Taire. He's definitely not into that stuff, ok?”  
  
“He’s not?” the blond glanced at him when Grantaire arrived the shop with a tea mug on his hand, followed by a ginger man who looked concerned. “Yo, man, I have a bone to pick with you.” the ginger man said. “What can I do for you, mr. Mabeuf? And please let that not be fixing your top roof again.” “No, you see, I could've gone to a qualified doctor to attend to thisscalp condition of mine. Now, the more I use, the less it works.The product doesn't work! I washed my head three times this week and it’s not improving! Care to explain me why not, Grantaire?” “That's probably because it doesn't go on your head.” he smirked. “If I don't put it on my head, where the hell else would it go?” 

“Try... To... Remember.” he answered slowing, glancing quickly and suggestively down to the middle of the other man's legs.

“Oh... Alright, my mistake, I’m sorry!” and Mabeuf left the shop, all embarrassed, making everyone laugh. “There you go, blondie!” Musichetta gave the investigator his bag so he could left, since Grantaire noticed his presence and was staring at him. “Thank you... Strange town...” he muttered while he was leaving, not as discreetly as he would like. “Never spent this much on shampoo before in my life.” 

Enjolras thought he could go home quietly this time, but he felt something holding him by the arm, it was the brunet staring at him in an unfriendly way.

 “Am I under some kind of surveillance?” 

His lips were pressed together and his brow furrowed, he was looking kind of cute.

  
  
“Why? Should you be, Grantaire?”    
  
 “Look, Sherlock Holmes, if you want to know something, just ask me!” “I already did. And there appears to be something missing from your story. I want to talk to you more, but I got to finish some work.How's about I come by your house tomorrow morning?” 

The wizard almost said no. He thought about saying he did not want the investigator to come to his house or that he had no reason to suspect him. But something made him want to talk to him, to be near him, there was something mysterious about Enjolras, beyond the undeniable beauty that he did not know how to decipher.

  “Fine. Tomorrow morning, then.” “Alright. It’s a date.” 

“Oh, is it?” now Grantaire smiled half-provocatively at the other's poor choice of words. He could swear Enjolras’ face had a soft shade of red now on his cheeks, he was embarrassed.

If he were not an inspector, who lived in another state and was not someone with an interest in arresting anyone who had murdered Montparnasse, of course, he could think of asking him out.

 

“Not a _date_.  A date.  Don’t try to play the funny thing with me, I still suspect you.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow. For not-a-date.”

✲✴✵

By night, Jehan was freezing inside his room, using Grantaire’s sweater and unable to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about his ex boyfriend. Something seemed wrong. He had stupid exes before, but not one of them were violent. And Parnasse didn’t look like the kind of guy who’d beat someone in the face, then kidnap and point a gun to his head. Didn’t seem like his Parnasse. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was feeling loneely.

Something made the window open alone and the ginger stood up, approaching it slowly.

“Parnasse? Is that you?” he called in a low voice, feeling a bit scared. But it wasn’t Parnasse. Or the wind, for the matter.

It was Éponine. Not her physical form, she was clearly a ghost, but he would recognize his sister-in-law anyway.

“Hi…” she said, in a whisper, without opening her mouth. The wizard shivered, but he did not scream and did not take his eyes off her.

“H-how is that possible? Are you…?”

“Alive? I don't think so... I’m just here quickly to warn you. You and Aire are in danger.”

“Don’t tell me. My evil ex is going to murder us from beyond grave.”

“Your ex boyfriend isn’t evil. He was a double cursed man.”

“A what?” Jehan blinked in surprise.

“There was a curse in his family too. Seriously, you dated the man and couldn’t tell he was a witch too?”

“Parnasse is a witch? Oh, my sweet Hestia… You’re kidding me, right?”

“Sure, Jehan, I came as a ghost just to prank on you, you bastard!”

It was really her, the same old mood, he could see, if she was in her normal shape he knew he would have been slapped.

 

“So, he didn’t kill that girl?”

“He did, but it was self defense, she cursed him before she died, she was a jealous and possessive witch, she did everything in her power to keep him. Parnasse did his best to defend himself. Things you discover after you die, man, crazy."  
”

“And how do you know all this? You didn't know him.”

“No, I met him. I had been his neighbor for many years, before coming here and meeting Grantaire. You're not the first witchy family I've ever met. I just didn’t think the legends

about you were real.”

“This is getting weird... Is there any way to fix this? When we tried to bring him back he had changed, ‘Ponine. Even before that he was... He wasn’t the one I thought he was...”

“Don’t blame yourself. And I know you can’t forgive him now, but he’s on a terrible place and this ritual that you’ve made only made things worse and worse. To help saving

Montparnasse, to try to bring him back and protect our family you'll have to do something tomorrow. On the full moon.”

"I'll do whatever it takes ..." he agreed, shaking his head and staring at the floor for a moment, suddenly noticing something. "Did Grantaire see you? Does he know that you ...?"

 

"No, and I wish you would not tell him I was here. It took months for him to get over what happened to me. And don’t think I didn’t see that man... The one with blond hair."

 

"Don't be silly, this is just the inspector who wants to put us both in prison."

 

"You may not see me, but I see you, my dear. I saw the way Grantaire looked at him, the same stupid look as he looked at me.”

 

"Well, my brother can't get carried away by that guy, I don't think we can trust him."

 

"Right, so do something, Protect Grantaire, keep him away from that man."

 

✲✴✵

“To banish unwanted people, it says you need blessing seeds. All right. What about nigellus seeds?”

“It's the same thing.” explained Azelma.

“Wow, is it? Good. You're good at this.”

“Why can't we tell daddy we're sending the policeman away?”

“Your daddy likes to pretend he doesn't do magic. And we must banish this man for your daddy's own sake. Blessing seeds. Right. What else do we need?Gavroche, I told you to listen out the door for Mr. Enjolras! Let’s see, blessing seeds... Oh, yeah, milk thistle. I can't find anything here!”

“Was this daddy’s?” she asked holding an old book of shadows.

“Yeah, where did you get that?” Jehan was really surprised. His brother thought he lost that book years ago.

 

_They can flip pancakes in the air... They'll have one green eye, one blue… Hear my call a mile away._

 

“Was is about mommy?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Buy mommy had brown eyes. She never made us pancakes. Daddy likes to cook.”

“You know… The truth is, this wasn't about your mommy. This was when your dad was little and he was trying to invent a partner who didn't exist to protect himself. It's crazy. But... He loved your mommy. He loved her very, very much.”

“I can't wait to fall in love, uncle Jehan.”

It was familiar. Of course, it was something Jehan said to his brother when they were children.

“Azelma, listen to me. Do you ever put your arms out and spin really fast?”

“She does it all the time!” Said Gavroche.

“She does? That's what love is like. It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside-down. But if you're not careful, if you don't keep your eyes on something still, you can lose your balance. You can't see what's happening to the people around you. You can't see that you're about to fall.”

“Don't be sad, uncle Jehan. I won't let you fall down.”

She hugged him, feeling his hands gently stroking her hair, picking up a small flower on the table and placing it behind his niece's ear.

 

“He's here! He's here!” exclaimed Gavroche.

“Go, go! Make sure you tell himabout breakfast.” the uncle ordered.

Gavroche went to the living room, finding Enjolras coming in, with clothes a little more casual than the ones he usually wore at work.

“You came for breakfast! We're having pancakes!”

“Hi. I just came to talk to your dad.”

“Great! He's having pancakes too. Do you have a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see it?”

Grantaire approached them. The blonde was almost pulling the gun from his waist to show it, but he felt a little irresponsible, keeping it hidden.

“No.”

“Hi, daddy! He's here for breakfast.” the boy left them and Enjolras nodded, greeting the witch.

“I have a question or two.”

  
✲✴✵

 

“He's going to stay!”

“Oh, good! Good work. Now go back out there and keep them away from here.”

  
✲✴✵ 

The inspector went to the stove, watching the flowers and herbs on the table, the glass jars, and some utensils he did not know. A small dark bottle caught his attention because the lid was out of place, so he took it to read what was on the label.

 

“Belladonna.”

“A sedative. People put it in their tea to relax, to calm their nerves.”

“Some people also use it as a poison.”

“Which people?”

“Witch people! Witches.”

“Witches? I guess you found me out, huh?” Grantaire approached him with a half smile, his body very close to his.

“I... I did.”

“You should come here on Halloween. You'd really see something!”

“Yeah?”

The blonde did not know what to think. Was he really serious?

 

“We all jump off the roof and fly. We kill our partners too! Or is that outside your jurisdiction, Enjolras?”

“Do you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? I got people telling me you're here cooking up magical breads, that you're into devil worship…”

“Fuck no, there's no devil in the craft.”

“So what kind of craft do you do?”

“Do I do? I manufacture bath oils. And soaps, hand lotions and shampoo. A quiet boring green witch, but I like it. And the uncles they like to meddle in people's love lives. But you see, magic isn't just... spells and potions. Your badge? It's just a star. Just another symbol. Your talisman. You favorite color, red, isn’t it, like your coat? It's… The same thing. It can't stop criminals in their tracks, can it? It has power because you believe it does.” the brunet touched the pocket of his shirt, where he could see that the badge was guarded, exchanging a deep look with Enjolras before moving away.

“Wish you could believe in me.”

“Mr. Grantaire, are you hiding Montparnasse?”

“Not in this house.”

“Did you or your brother kill Montparnasse?”

“Oh, yeah, couple of times.”

  
✲✴✵

 

“Gavroche, could you make more of a mess?” the father complained, watching the the milk drops and some wheat stains on the floor

“I’m cooking, daddy!”

“I can see that.”

“Did you ever see a pancake fly?” Enjolras asked, joining the little one. “Step aside, you. You're about to. And... There you go!”

The pancake whirled in the air, before falling back into the frying pan.

 

“He knows how to flip pancakes!”

“Hey, Mr. Enjolras, do you know target practice?” asked Azelma, hiding her father’s old book on her lap.

“Sure. And I’m very good at it too.”

“Okay, first troll.” Grantaire said in amusement, putting a napkin on his son's neck. “Second troll.” Now he put a pink one on his daughter, who sticked her tongue in disapproval. “And if you're anything like my kids... Here. It'll keep you clean.” the last napkin was placed on the blond, who wasn’t quite sure how to react to it.

 

“Hi, Enjy. Can I call you that?” asked Jehan with a flirting smile.

“As long as you don’t try to “take a peek” at my hand again, I don’t see why not.”

“You must try my syrup. It’s perfect. And vegan.” The ginger suggested, offering the cup with the syrup – actually the enchanted syrup he made with Azelma – to the blond to add in his pancakes.

“No!” the little girl screamed, taking the cup from his hand, running along with her little brother to the cliff, tossing the syrup into the sea and celebrating happily with Gavroche. If Enjolras was the person in his father's spell book, they did not want him to leave.

“I guess they didn't want to eat that.” Grantaire whispered, a little confused.

“I guess not.” Enjolras agreed, even more confused.

They could continue the meal, despite Jehan's annoyed expression, when they heard a toad vocalizing. Making a loud and stressful noise, as if calling them. The three of them rose curiously, approaching the animal, seeing the same vomit on the stone where was a ring. A ring Jehan knew well. Montparnasse’s ring.

“I've been looking for this. This is his party trick.” he smiled nervously, taking the jewel and trying not to look frightened by what he had seen.

“It's your ring, is it? Could I have it? ” Enjolras asked, taking the ring on his hand, examinating.

“What do you think you're playing at?” the inspector asked, frowning, returning to the serious and terrifying humor, that intimidating look in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You better get yourselves a damn good lawyer! And don't even think about leaving town!” He took off the napkin and gave it to Grantaire. “What was in that syrup?”

In the kitchen, they just threw the pancaked in the trash and Jehan was clearly not amused by this situation.

“Aire, look, we just stick to our stories. No body, no crime!” his distraction did drop a dish that crashed, further dirtying the kitchen. “Oh, I'm sorry. I'm feeling like shit. I'm not sleeping.”

“I. Me. Mine. That's all you can think about. You. It's all about you.” Grantaire pricked, not looking at all complacent.

“I don't want to fight.” Jehan stood up, ready to leave to his room, but his brother took his arm firmly.

“Don't you dare walk away from me! I'm sick and tired of cleaning up your messes!”

“Yeah, you're right. You're always right. I'm just a mess. Just one big mess! At least I've lived my life. You hate me for it because it scares the hell out of you!”

“Jehan, I don’t hate you.”

“You spend all your energy trying to fit in, to be normal! But you'll never fit in. Because we're fucking different! And so are your children!”

“You leave them out of this!”

“All my life, I've wished I had half your talent. You're wasting yourself!”

“I want you out of here. I want you gone.”

None of this would have happened if Jehan had not been irresponsible. It was all his fault anyway, at least that was what his mind was shouting now.

 

“Okay, fine. I'm gone.”

“Good.”

Enough. He was tired, he was distressed, tired, and he needed to get things right. He grabbed the jacket that hung in the living room. The inspector should not be far.

 

“What? What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I'm doing the right thing.”

“You're not telling him what happened!”

“Funny. The moment Enjolras walked in, that's all I want to do.”

“Will you get on your knees and beg for mercy?”

“You want me to be true to myself? Then watch this!"

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes, some explanations:  
> -As you may have noticed I put Javert and Valjean as brothers and am taking the name "Valjean" and not "Jean" as his first name so you won't confused him with Jehan.  
> -Jehan and Grantaire are siblings.  
> -The original story was modified and adapted, so was the movie plot, since it's based on a novel.  
> -Javert and Valjean are not a couple is this fanfiction!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> -Yes, I just made Grantaire be Sandra Bullock and Jehan be Nicole Kidman, don't kinkshame me.  
> -Yeah, Javert calls Valjean just 'Jean somewhere because I thought it would sound cute?  
> -Practical Magic is the title of book by Alice Hoffman.
> 
> Leave a comment below, please. And kudos if you like.  
> Thank you very much.
> 
> My blogs: persephonest (main/personal) and revolutionangel (Les Mis)


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